


Hating/Loving You

by Leone_Zemson



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Band, Bipolar Disorder, But there's a nice end, First Kiss, M/M, a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leone_Zemson/pseuds/Leone_Zemson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick are friendly rivals at school, yet their friends are betting behind their backs on when they finally get their acts together and ask each other out.</p><p>High School AU, Peterick, a tiny bit of swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hating/Loving You

“Patrick… um… Stumf?”

Patrick sighed as the substitute teacher got his name wrong… for the 3rd day in the row.

 _God help me, it’s only Wednesday,_ Patrick moaned in his mind.

“It’s pronounced Stump, ma’am,” Patrick corrected politely.

“Oh, I’m sorry Patrick,” the teacher apologised sweetly. She was a 60-or-so-year-old woman which wispy, snow-white hair and wore an old fashioned pink pencil-skirt-and-suit jacket combo, with a white blouse underneath. We won’t get onto any details about her face… for her sake. In any case, she perfectly fit the stereotype of an old granny. No one knew why she had retired yet.

She called off a few more names down the list, as Patrick heard a snicker from the other side of the room. He risked a sideway glance from under his baseball cap, and saw the culprit – Pete Wentz.

Pete Wentz was a self-proclaimed ‘emo’ – he had jet-black hair, wore ridiculous eyeliner, and hid himself under a huge black hoodie, but wore black skinny jeans. Patrick always shook his head when he thought about his get-up for too long – he thought it was far too over the top, in his opinion. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with his life – he had a decent family, he had good friends, he wasn’t bothered by any of the huge jocks (he wasn’t the most popular person, but at least he wasn’t at the bottom,) and he gets… average grades. Nothing that would warrant such a depressing image that he was sending to the world every day, just by his clothes.

Patrick kept staring sideways at his… friend? Their attitudes towards each other didn’t exactly constitute a friendship, to be entirely honest – there were light-hearted teases, an occasional shove into the locker, a never-ending argument on who was better, David Bowie or the Rolling Stones, and the intense rivalry when it came to, well… everything. Naturally, Pete was better at sports, but Patrick got better grades overall. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either. More like rivals.

Of course, there’s the joke that Brendon and Andy like to tell, is that the sexual tension was _thick_. Of course, Patrick (and Pete for that matter, even though he’s a bit of a flirt) was quick to deny any of the sort.

If Patrick’s eyes were lazars, he would have burnt two neat holes though Pete. Pete, finally sensing eyes on him, turned and saw Patrick staring at him. His eyes lit up and he gave a trademark (patented and copyrighted) Wentz grin.

“Peter Wentz?”

“Just Pete is fine, ma’am,” Pete answered, finally tearing his eyes away from Patrick.

“Okay Peter. That’s it for roll call! Now your whippersnappers better stay here until the first period bell, okay darlings? Good!” The class wasn’t really paying attention to the teacher. Patrick, however, snickered as the teacher didn’t take Pete’s seemingly light-hearted – but completely serious – suggestion to heart.

The bell rang after another minute, and the class stood up to exit out of the room. Well, correction – they flooded out of the room. No one didn’t really like the substitute.

“See you in English, you dork,” Pete said to Patrick, his mega-watt smile still on his face. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Not looking forward to it, Your Majesty of Goth,” Patrick retorted. Pete snorted, and walked in the direction of his class, catching up to his friend Joe. Patrick watched him go as Andy and Brendon caught up to him.

“Dude, let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Andy pointed out, and pulled on Patrick’s arm. Patrick turned towards his friends, and nodded. They both walked in the direction of their next class, Geography.

In English, as Patrick entered the classroom, he immediately spotted Pete sitting at the desk next to his, and narrowed his eyes on him.

 _He doesn’t normally sit there,_ Patrick thought, as Pete spotted him, and ramped up the Wentz grin.

Patrick rolled his eyes and sat in his normal seat, and pointedly ignored Pete.

“You’re not going to greet me? You wound me, Pattycakes,” Pete said, pretending to be hurt with a hand over his heart.

“Hey loser,” Patrick said curtly, not even bothering to look at his friend/rival/whatever.

“Awww, come on,” Pete whined, and poked Patrick’s side.

“Hey!” Patrick squeaked, jumping up in his seat. Yes, he was ticklish.

“Hello Pattycakes, how are you doing today?” Pete asked, and continued poking Patrick’s side. In return, Patrick spasmed violently, and laughing uncontrollably.

“Hi P-Pete, HEY! I-I a-am d-doing- HOLY SMOKES STOP- f-f-fine, a-and you?” Pete finally relented in his attack, and allowed Patrick to regain his breath. The class had been watching the whole exchange with some interest, until the teacher came in.

“Sorry I’m late, kids! Anyway, let’s get started,” the teacher, a portly man wearing mainly tweed, turned to the blackboard to write something. Pete leant towards Patrick.

“I’m so much better now that you’re here,” he purred. Patrick swatted him away, and then attempted to focus on the lesson… except Patrick didn’t really care for what they could be learning about, and rested his cheek on his palm. He looked out of the window, and started thinking about some projects that were due.

An indefinite amount of time later, Patrick felt something nudge his thigh. He looked downwards and saw Pete’s hand nudging him, a piece of paper in his hand.

Patrick quickly took the piece of paper, and smoothed it out on his desk.

‘This lesson blows. Am I right or am I right?’ it said. Patrick snorted, but quickly covered it.

“Is there something funny, Mr. Stump?” the teacher asked, looking at him. Patrick panicked a bit.

“No, not at all Sir!” he replied quickly. The teacher looked at him a moment longer, as if saying that he didn’t really believe him, but went back to the lesson. Patrick breathed a sigh of relief, then wrote a reply.

‘You should be focusing, Pete,’ he admonished in his reply, then quickly passed it back. Pete grinned at his reply, then wrote down his own.

‘You’re one to talk, Mr I-like-daydreaming-all-day-long. What are you thinking about, by the way?’ Patrick read.

‘Fine, guilty. But I’m not going to tell you.’

‘Aw, spoilsport. I bet it’s about me~’

‘You are the absolute last thing on my mind.’

‘You’re so mean L’

‘Focus.’

‘Says you. I prefer annoying you more.’

‘I’m pretty sure you do.’

Luckily for Patrick, the bell rang for the next period. He quickly packed away his books and caught up to his friends as they were leaving.

“Did you have a… _fascinating_ lesson, Stumpy?” Brendon teased.

“Yeah yeah, guys. What do we have next, Spanish?”

“Hey Stumpy, I’m serious. When are you guys gonna bang?” Brendon asked innocently.

Patrick was too shocked by the question to reply, and just stormed off, leaving Andy and Brendon laughing.

The end of the day rolled in, and while most students were happy to go home, Patrick had to drag himself to soccer practice.

“So, remind me,” Pete asked as he caught up to Patrick, “Why do you do soccer if you hate it so much?”

“My mom makes me do it, she thinks it’s good that I do a sport,” Patrick grumbled. Pete laughed at his obvious distain.

“Oh man, I think I love your mom,” he proclaimed, as he finally managed to calm down. Catching Patrick’s glare, he smiled and said, “Not as much as I love my Pattycakes.” Just to annoy him further, Pete reached out and pinched Patrick’s cheek. Patrick scowled even further, and swatted his hand away. Pete laughed, and wrapped an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick sighed, but didn’t have the heart to remove the offending arm. It was nice, in a way.

“Oh hey, it’s those faggots,” a voice said, penetrating the space that Pete and Patrick created for themselves.

“What’s up, Gabe?” Pete asked coolly, turning around to see the offending voice. He saw one Gabe Saporta, towering over the two midgets. He was flanked by William Beckett, or more commonly known as Bill.

“You two are what’s up, you fags,” Gabe snarled, standing over Pete and Patrick.

“Yes, we’re also doing okay, thank you very much Gabriel,” Pete replied, a shit-eating grin on his face. Patrick nudged Pete, and gave him a look that basically said ‘What the fuck, man,’ but Pete simply gave him a wink.

“Fucking retard,” William said under his breath.

“What was that, Bill?” Pete inquired. “I don’t think that was a very nice thing you said.”

“Shut the hell up, Wentz,” William growled.

“Hey, I thought we had an agreement here. You’d be nice to me and Stumpy here, and I wouldn’t tell everyone of what I… _discovered,_ that one time.” Gabe and Bill both swore under their breaths.

“We’ll get you back for this, Peter,” Gabe spat out.

“How? I’m openly bisexual, while you two are so far in the closet I’m surprised you haven’t found Narnia,” Pete retorted. Patrick burst out laughing, while Gabe and Bill just growled, and stalked away.

“Okay, that last insult was hilarious, but I don’t have a clue what just went on,” Patrick said, after calming.

“Well, let’s just say that Gabe and Bill have a secret that they don’t want getting out,” Pete said, his shit-eating grin still on his face. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“I think I get it. Now let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

“You’re the man, Pattycakes!” Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand, and started skipping down the hallway.

“Hey! Wait up!” Patrick was pulled along, before he picked up the pace, so while Pete was skipping, Patrick was adopting a brisk walking pace.

They soon reached the football field, and quickly dashed to the boy’s changing room. The room was mostly empty, since the pair was late and everyone else had already changed. Pete stood in front of his locker, and didn’t hesitate to pull his shirt over his head in a frenzied rush. Patrick gawked at his friend’s audacity, then quickly grabbed his football kit from his own locker and dashed into a toilet stall.

“Aw come on, Pattycakes, I give you a nice view, and you can’t be bothered to return the favour?” Patrick heard Pete’s teasing voice from outside.

“Go away Pete, I’m trying to change,” Patrick said, keeping his tone of voice even.

“Don’t be so shy~” Pete teased again.

“There’s nothing good about this ‘view,’” Patrick mumbled, looking at his bare stomach. He had always thought that he was a bit on the fat side, which was why he despised sports – not only was he no good at them, he also hated seeing everyone else who was in decent shape, unlike him.

“What was that?” Pete asked.

“Nothing,” Patrick replied, emerging from the stall fully dressed in his football uniform. He saw Pete standing outside, also fully dressed.

“Aw, come on, that’s no fun,” Pete pouted.

“I was just talking to myself. Now, we better get going before we’re completely late,” Patrick said, and then bolted out of the changing room. Pete followed along doggedly, and wouldn’t keep his distance even with Patrick’s glares.

They reached the football field, and started warming up. Patrick tried to focus on something other than the fact that he wasn’t very flexible. When the whole team was touching their toes, Patrick heard a quiet wolf whistle. He looked for the source, and saw Pete Wentz looking at him. When their eyes met, Pete winked at him. Patrick looked away in a huff, and focused on the ground.

After they warmed up, the team was split into two, and a practice match ensued. Unfortunately for Patrick, Pete was on the same team as him.

The game started, and Patrick was stuck as defence. He didn’t really mind, considering he hated football and he didn’t have to do a lot in defence.

Of course, sooner or later the opposite team got a hold of the ball, and their attackers came barrelling through towards his team’s goal. Patrick got ready to try and take back the ball, though he already knew that the attackers were on an entirely different skill level than Patrick, and that he would probably fall flat on his face. At least it provide some comic relief for the opposing team for a moment, which would allow his own teammates to swipe the ball.

Patrick moved as the attackers got close enough. He tackled the attacker with the ball, and by some miracle he managed to take it.

“Hey, ‘Trick! Over here!” he heard Pete shouting. He looked to his left and saw Pete flanking him. He was about to try and pass the ball over to him, but he tripped over it and landed ungracefully into the dirt. The attackers retrieved their lost ball, and scored a goal. Patrick groaned, and sat up. He looked up and saw Pete offering him a hand. He took it with gratitude, and Pete pulled him up onto his feet.

“Thanks,” Patrick said, brushing himself off.

“That was a good steal there, but you still need work on not tripping over your own feet.” Pete gave him a wink, then ran back into his position.

His team managed to turn the game around, and although the opposing team managed almost always got the ball past Patrick and into the goal (except for the one time where Patrick managed to trip over the ball so badly, he did a flip and landed on his ass. Everyone was laughing so hard at Patrick’s colossal fail, Pete managed to steal the ball and score another goal for the team,) his team’s attackers were pretty good, and managed to score more goals.

Afterwards, everyone went into the changing rooms to shower and get redressed. Except for Patrick, who decided that he would shower and change at home. He grabbed his bags and headed out to the parking lot.

“Hey! Wait!” Patrick sighed, and turned around to see Pete running towards him. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Patrick answered simply.

“What? Are you walking home?” Patrick nodded. “Just give me a minute, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Are you sure?”

“No problem! Just hold on.” Pete made a dash back to the changing rooms, and not a minute later he ran back over, his bags messily slung over his shoulder. He had a ring of keys in his hand. Patrick followed Pete as he led him over to his car, which was a blue Mini.

“Oh my god, you have a Mini. I’m officially jealous,” Patrick said. Pete simply grinned in reply.

They both climbed into the car, and Pete drove off.

“My house is on Glen Avenue,” Patrick said.

“I know,” Pete replied. Patrick looked at him.

“How do you know? Do you stalk me or something?” This earned a laugh from Pete.

“Of course not. I drive by your house every day to get to school, and sometimes I see you.”

“Oh.” The rest of the ride continued in silence, until Pete pulled over into Patrick’s driveway.

“Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow,” Patrick said.

“Goodbye asshole,” Pete replied, a grin on his face.

“Dickbag,” Patrick simply said, a smile on his face.

Pete loved Patrick.

Well, not quite that kind of love-love, where you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, marry them, have kids with them, that sort of thing. Though Pete wouldn’t mind having Patrick as a friend for the rest of his life.

In fact, Pete wasn’t really aware that he loved Patrick… as a friend. He knew that he loved how adorable he was, how feisty he was, how he always brushed off his teasing or flirting, and then continued to pound him (metaphorically, of course…) when the next test came around. That victorious smirk as he got an A or A+, knowing Pete only got a C or an equally average grade.

Pete definitely considered Patrick a friend of sorts, even though they had more of a friendly rivalry, and weren’t particularly close.

 _Maybe I should fix that,_ Pete thought to himself, _Maybe I should ask to hang out with him or something… I’m sure he wouldn’t mind that._

Well, then again, he was talking – well, thinking – about Patrick. Who knew what he would think if Pete asked him to ‘hang out.’ What would they do, anyway?

 _I could bring him to my house. We could watch movies and eat popcorn or something…_ Pete shook his head. _Yeah, and maybe we would kiss and cuddle._ That last thought was sarcastic, in case your sarcasm detector was broken.

_I gotta ask him to hang out with me without making it sound like a date…_

Then he had the perfect idea.

_I can ask him to help me with homework!_

Pete grinned. It was perfect, flawless, infallible, and had the Wentz stamp of approval.

Pete pulled up into his driveway, his stupid grin still stuck on his face. He climbed out of his car, and used his keys to unlock his front door.

“I’m home,” he shouted to his mom.

“Hi sweetie!” his mom, Dale, called back. Pete walked into the kitchen to see Dale on her laptop.

“Ew, you stink,” Dale teased, sticking her nose up.

“Sorry mom, I didn’t get a chance to shower.” Pete was still grinning.

“Oh no, you haven’t met a girl, have you?”

“Ah, no, but there is something I want to ask…”

“Yes, as long as you don’t have sex.”

“Mom! He’s just a friend!”

“I know you and your ‘friends…’”

“You know something? I’m going to my room.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to buy condoms for you?”

“Mom!” Pete quickly vacated the kitchen, leaving his mom to laugh to herself.

The next day Pete walked into school with a spring in his step, determined to not pussy out of asking Patrick to hang out – hanging out and most definitely _not_ on a date. He boldly sat next to Patrick during the first lesson they shared together, Maths, sending him a wink as he did. Patrick rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored Pete. So far, normal behaviour, nothing could go wrong. It had the Wentz stamp of approval, after all.

Lunch break rolled in, and so did the time Pete decide he would ask Patrick to hang out. Pete sauntered up to the table Patrick and his friends, Andy and Brendon and a few others, usually sat down.

“Hey Patrick,” Pete greeted, a dazzling smile on his face. Patrick snorted.

“Careful Pete, if too many people see that grin of yours, it’s going to ruin your emo reputation.” Patrick casually took a bite out of his sandwich. “So, what do you want?”

“Aw, you’re so mean to me, Tricky,” Pete said in a faux hurt tone, his hands over his heart. Brendon snorted, knowing how false that was.

“Come on, spill. It’s not every day you approach me like this.”

“Okay, so _maybe_ I wanted to ask you something…” Cue a roll of Patrick’s eyes. “I just wanted to ask if you would help me with some subjects sometime. Y’know, like homework and stuff. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.” Pete kept his smile on his face, but internally he was freaking.

 _This is make or break now, Wentz,_ he thought to himself.

Patrick had taken on a surprised expression, never thinking in a billion years that that was what Pete would ask.

“Huh. So you’re beginning to care about your grades,” Patrick teased, a smug tone in his voice. Pete rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna help me, or do I have to ask someone else?”

“Wow, you don’t have to put it like that. Of course I will help you. Do you wanna start today, or…?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I can do today, I’ll just have to ask my mom. I’ll come and find you.” Pete’s grin turned onto full volume.

“Thanks! See ya later!” Pete turned around and walked back to his friends with a bounce in his step. Patrick looked at him oddly, trying to process what just happened.

“Huh. That’s new,” he commented.

“Dude, you realise that this is probably a date, right?” Brendon pointed out. Patrick’s face slowly started to resemble a tomato.

“This is so not a date!” he exclaimed.

“Haha, whatever you say,” Brendon said with contempt.

“Whether this is a date or not, if you two actually like each other something is bound to happen,” Andy said.

“But I don’t like him!” Andy rose an eyebrow at his sputtering friend. “Okay, maybe a tiny, tiny, _tiny_ bit.” Andy and Brendon both grinned.

“It’s gonna happen! I can feel it in my bones!” Brendon exclaimed. Patrick shook his head, then put his head in his palms in embarrassment.

“I’m so screwed…” he mumbled to himself, as Brendon and Andy were making a bet.

Patrick waited around at Pete’s car, waiting for the black-dressed boy to show up. He didn’t have to wait very long – he spotted Pete racing through the parking lot, the bag he had hastily slung over his shoulder bouncing up and down, threatening to spill books out of the half-done zip. Pete made it over to the car in record time, huffing and panting from his exertion.

“Sorry! The teacher kept me for a little while longer. She complained about my marks, as per usual, but I surprised her by saying that I was getting some tutoring,” Pete explained, grinning by the end of it. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“No problem. Let’s just go,” Patrick said, motioning to the car door.

“Of course!” Pete took his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door. Patrick climbed in, throwing his bag by his feet. Pete soon joined him in the driver’s seat. As they were driving away, Patrick saw Andy and Brendon at the front of the school. They waved him off, and when they drove even closer, Brendon shot him a wink. Patrick shook his head and turned his head away from them.

“What was that for?” Pete asked.

“Nothing. My friends were just being dicks.”

“Haha. Reminds me of Joe.”

“Isn’t he the one with the big afro and smells like weed most of the time?”

“He only smells like weed because his Dad smokes,” Pete defended immediately. “Or, well, that’s what he tells me.” Patrick sighed and shook his head.

“Anyway… what were you hoping to work on today?” he asked.

“I’m the worst at math at the moment, so if we could do that today, that’d be great,” Pete answered.

“Good thing I’m really good at math.”

“You’re good at everything, though.” Patrick blushed and looked away. “Hey, it’s a fact!”

“If you say so,” Patrick mumbled. “By the way, my mom says I can be back home by six, just so you know.”

“Okay,” Pete answered idly. Inside, he was screaming with excitement. He had almost _three hours_ of Stumpy time.

“What are you smiling at?” Patrick asked, seeing that Pete had started to smile, in an almost creepy way. Pete caught himself and gave Patrick an innocent look.

“Oh, nothing,” Pete replied.

They arrived at Pete’s house in record time, and the two climbed out of the car. They made their way to the front door, which Pete unlocked.

Patrick felt a little lost, being in an unfamiliar face and all, and simply followed Pete around like a lost sheep, as Pete led them to the kitchen.

“Hi mom, I’m home,” Pete greeted as soon as he entered, and saw his mom sat down at the table with her laptop. She looked up from her screen to acknowledge the two boys.

“Hello Pete, how- oh, is this Patrick?” Dale asked, her eyes sparkling.

“The only and only,” Pete replied with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Wentz,” Patrick said politely, offering his hand.

“Wow, so polite! And please, just call me Dale.” Dale took the offered hand, shaking it firmly.

“Okay, we’re gonna go now. See you later, mom!” Pete said, taking Patrick’s hand and dragging him out of the kitchen.

“Have fun!” Dale called out, and if the two boys were still in the room, they would have seen the knowing look in her eyes.

“So this is my room,” Pete said, as he opened up his bedroom door. His room was a moderate size, with a closet, dresser, desk, bed and bedside table, however it was fairly messy, with clothes strewn all over the floor, make-up and other accessories dumped on the dresser, several open books laying across the desk, and various gadgets on the bedside table. Patrick wrinkled his nose up in disgust as he examined the messy bedroom.

“How do you live in here?” Patrick asked.

“Somehow,” Pete replied with a shrug, then plugged his charger into his phone, and placed it on his bedside table.

“So… we’ll start with math,” Patrick reiterated, making his way across to the desk, being careful not to step on any of the clothes. Pete followed him, not really caring where he was planting his feet.

They sat down at the desk, and Pete got out his math textbook and writing book.

“What don’t you understand about math?” Patrick asked.

“Everything,” Pete put plainly. Patrick sighed.

“This is going to take a while,” he mumbled.

Pete and Patrick were deep in the ‘wonderful’ world of complex algorithms and formulas, when Dale opened the bedroom door.

“Pete?” she called out cautiously, stepping into the messy room unflinchingly.

“Huh?” Pete let out, then turned around to face his mom. “Oh, hi mom.”

“Pete, it’s five o’clock. It’s time to take your-“

“Yes, I know mom,” Pete interrupted quickly, standing up in his chair.

“Oh, okay,” Dale answered, puzzled as to why her son interrupted her. She then left the room without another word.

“I’ll be back,” Pete said to Patrick, who was confused as to what just happened.

“Okay,” Patrick replied, puzzled. He watched as Pete took out something from his bedside draw, but he couldn’t see what it was as Pete was holding it close to his body, then he exited the room. Patrick knew he should have just stayed in place and waited for Pete, but his curiosity took over. He walked over to the bedside table, and opened the draw. He was greeted with the sight of a bottle of medication. He picked it up and saw the label; A bottle of Ativan, prescribed to Pete Wentz.

“What the hell…?” Patrick wondered to himself. He walked back to the desk, taking out his phone as he did, and searched the internet for Ativan.

“What was that all about, Pete?” he heard Dale outside the bedroom door.

“I don’t want Patrick to know,” Pete replied.

“Why not? Isn’t he your friend?”

“None of my friends know. I don’t want them to think…” Pete trailed off. “It doesn’t matter. But please don’t tell him.”

“Okay, sweetie.” His mom sounded concerned, but Pete paid no mind to it.

Patrick saw the Wikipedia page on Ativan, and his eyes bulged.

“Pete has bipolar disorder?!” he blurted out, just as Pete was re-entering the room.

“Oh shit,” Pete said, as he heard Patrick. Patrick, alarmed, span around to see Pete, his eyes wide in alarm and his body quivering in panic, as his instincts told him to run.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, taking a step towards Pete.

“Don’t,” Pete said, his voice shaking. He took a step back as Patrick took another step forward.

“Pete, it’s okay,” Patrick said, his voice calm as he took a few more steps towards Pete. Pete hadn’t run away yet, so Patrick closed the distance between the two, and wrapped his arms around Pete.

“It’s okay,” Patrick repeated, rubbing Pete’s back. Pete was still shaking, and tears started to roll down his cheeks.

“I-I’m… s-s-sor-“ Pete tried to say, but Patrick shushed him. He led him and Pete to the bed, sat down and continued to comfort Pete as he continued to have a silent crying fit. At the end of it, Pete wiped his face on his sleeve, and looked at Patrick with a new-found respect.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes still puffy and red, then leant in for a kiss.

Patrick was surprised as their lips met, but he knew at that moment, this was what he wanted. He returned the kiss eagerly. Their lips explored the other, taking in the new territory, and the new experience. Soon, Pete parted his lips slightly and swiped his tongue over Patrick’s bottom lip, tasting him, asking for permission. Patrick granted it, opening his mouth to give access to Pete. They made out for a long time, enjoying each other and each other’s taste. Finally they parted, a little line of spit still connecting each other.

“Wow,” Patrick said, his lips swollen. He put his hand to his lips, still not believing what just happened.

“Would you, Patrick Stumph, take me as his boyfriend?” Pete asked, feeling giddy that maybe, _maybe_ this was possible.

“Only if Pete Wentz would take me to be his,” Patrick replied coyly.

“But of course!” Pete declared, and stole another kiss from Patrick.

The infallible, perfect, flawless plan, which had the Wentz stamp of approval, turned out to be far more fruitful than Pete ever thought it could be.


End file.
